At His Command-Historical Romance Version by Ruth Kaufman Read Free Book Online Page A

men engaged in mock battles. Sounds of clanging swords and pounding hooves filled the air. He rode shirtless.
    “I’ve never seen the like,” Agnes said. “But really now, if he was your man, would you want others all agog, wantin’ him, too? There’s not a woman in this place who doesn’t hope he’ll glance her way. And more.” She patted her brown hair into place.
    “Everyone? Even Lady Amice?”
    Amice, who’d been about to encourage them to return to work, stopped short. The two were so focused on the men they hadn’t noticed her approach. She couldn’t resist the temptation to listen.
    “Why not? After that awful husband, you can be sure she’s wantin’ a good man,” Agnes said. “That Master Edwin, always pokin’ at whoever was passin’ by. And so old and cranky too.”
    Amice gasped in shock. How could this have been going on and she’d known nothing of it? Add one more black mark to the tally against Edwin.
    “Can any be trusted? How do we know they all aren’t after the next female that catches their eye?” Maggie asked. “Or whatever other part responds,” she added with a giggle.
    Amice had heard enough. She walked by cheerfully calling, “Hello, Maggie. Agnes.”
    With a quick curtsy, Maggie picked up her basket of linens and walked off. Agnes also bobbed before returning to her loom.
    As she continued her journey upstairs, Amice couldn’t stop herself from watching the men. From the safety of the shadowed window, her eyes sought Nicholas as a flower seeks the sun.
    His long black hair tossed about as he turned Merlin in tight circles. Not overly bulky like those of the blacksmith, Nicholas’s muscles accentuated his broad chest and added to his powerful aura. His arms flexed as he changed his grip on the reins. The rhythmic movements emphasized his masculinity.
    A deep, powerful yearning filled her. She looked forward to their every meeting with a thirst strong as a hot August day after hours of gardening. That need could be satisfied with a cool drink from the well.
    How could her need for Nicholas be met, when he’d come to take her to her new husband? She didn’t even know if he felt the same. He, who could have most any woman to wife.
    Maggie and Agnes were right.
    All of the characteristics she’d hoped for in a husband had found their way to Nicholas. He was intelligent, hard working, considerate, an interesting companion. And the most attractive man she had ever met, with a compelling gaze, a nose with just enough shape to give it character, a square jaw. And his smile moved her, made her want to make him smile.
    Perhaps she only yearned for what she couldn’t have.
    Amice stepped deeper into the shadows. She’d allow herself one last look before willing herself to get on with her day, to help the cook determine what supplies to order.
    Nicholas looked around as if he sensed her presence. He frowned. Had he sought but not found her?
    She backed away. His head snapped in her direction. Was he that aware of her? He picked up a sword and joined the mock fray but kept looking toward her window. His obvious lack of attention to his opponent earned him a thwack on the shoulder.
    Smiling, he parried the blow and continued his battle. She smiled, too.

    As Amice tied her overgown over her kirtle of pale blue the next morning, she heard a knock. Who could it be at such an early hour, and who would come to her chamber? Word from the king? Had Harry escaped again? A sense of foreboding filled her as she opened the door.
    “My shirt has a tear.” Nicholas walked into her room as though it was a perfectly normal thing to do. He looked quite offended as he pointed to the back of his shoulder at the sleeve’s seam, as though the shirt had torn itself on purpose.
    A gasp of relief preceded her peal of laughter. “Let me see it.” Amice approached, feeling heat emanating from him. She jumped as the feel of him sent a shiver through her finger to the rest of her, and looked at her